Not All Bruises Can Be Seen
by kittens312
Summary: Just a silly little story. If you ship Sherlolly, then you should read this. Just a quick little read, and all your feels will die. Whoops. I mean... Um... There is some abuse in here, and a gunshot wound, but not graphic. It's Molly's father, tho, not Sherlock. He's actually on the side of angels in this one. Some language too. More Sherlock stories to come soon.
1. Chapter 1

Molly's POV

I was really anxious about this. As we walked into the mall, my Dad kept ranting about how my electronics were a distraction to schoolwork (what else?), and how he was seriously considering selling them. I thought he was being a bit judgmental, since he's the director of I.T. where he works. He basically uses electronics all day. I get it, he's working on them.  
But at home, when we have to call for him several times before he pulls his gaze away from his phone, he doesn't really have an excuse.

He kept talking about it until we started shopping. Good. That took his focus off of my faults, and onto the store's. I felt almost bad for the customers who had to hear it, and I was embarrassed beyond belief. I couldn't correct him, however, because then he'd turn on me again. I twisted with the money in my hand. After we finished shopping, he said I could go to the food court while he browsed a sports store. I walked up to the employee at the food court, and asked for a large chocolate milkshake, and fries.

"You're already fat enough" I could hear my father sneer in my mind. "Shut up!" I hissed, therefore getting a weird look from the employee. He had curly black hair, and was wearing a purple t-shirt and jeans. Seriously sharp cheekbones. Kinda cute. I immediately looked down at the sweatpants I was wearing, and blushed.  
The employee didn't seem to notice, however. He had started talking to someone in the back. "Um, hello? I'm still here," I squeaked. "Oh, right," he said. Deep bass voice. "What did you want to order?" I squirmed on the spot. His blue eyes looked like they were staring into my soul. "A large chocolate milkshake." I said, deciding against the fries. "Alright. That will be $2.76." I handed him my $5, and hoped it wasn't too sweaty from me messing with it in my pocket. "Shy. Abusive father, who brought you here. You're nervous about him taking your phone away, because it's the only way for you to stay in touch with your long distance friend." I gaped at him. "How did you–" He rolled his eyes, cutting me off, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Well, for the shy thing, you wouldn't look me in the eye for longer than two seconds. When you handed me the money, your sleeve went up, and I saw a bruise. It could've been you're clumsy, but it's too perfectly formed to be a random bruise. Therefore, your father hits you." I challenged him, "It could've been my mother." He shakes his head. "No, your mother is gone. Moved out, most likely, with the way your father treats women, or dead. You wouldn't have that posture if you had a mother, and your hair and nail bed is atrocious. No mother would let their daughter out like that." I muttered softly, "Mine does", but he apparently didn't hear me, and went on with his speech.

"You're nervous, because this bill is sweaty–" crap "–and it's been twisted around. Therefore, you were nervous about something, and taking it out on this bill." He smirked, showing that he was done talking.

He handed me my milkshake. "There you go." But I didn't let him go that easily. "What about the phone part? And the long distance friend?" He rolled his eyes again. "Gosh, must I explain everything to you? The phone part is simple, your father over there is looking at his, and a phone with a pink case is sticking out. As I said, your mother is gone, therefore it's your phone. Besides, what kind of man would take his wife's phone while he left her at home? He'd have to be an idiot! You're wearing a friendship bracelet, well worn, indicating it's old. Maybe seven years? You've recently moved here, that's shown by the smell of newness coming from you, therefore you left your friend to move here. Case closed."  
His eyes immediately grew wide at that last part, and I teased, "I'm a case now?" "No. Goodbye now, there's quite a line behind you." I grabbed the milkshake and started to walk away, when he grabbed my arm and said, "My name is Sherlock Holmes, what's yours?" I replied curtly, "Molly Hooper." And ran towards my Dad, who's clearly been drinking.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlocks POV

"Molly Hooper" I muttered, staring after her. My phone rang. "Sherlock!  
It's time to go, it's Anderson's shift now." I hear Mycroft say.  
"Alright Mycroft, I'm coming." I say, walking out to the car. "Hurry, you're going to be late to your violin lessons."  
I started growing impatient. "I'm _coming_, Mycroft!" I quickly hang up before he starts doing something annoying, like talking again. I see Molly in the parking lot. I start to walk over, but right as I do, her father hits her, and she falls on the pavement. Hard.

I run up to her father, and punch him squarely in the jaw. He reeks of alcohol, and doesn't get back up. Good. I call Mycroft back again. "Mycrof–"  
"I hope you're calling me to apologize, Sherlock."

What the bloody hell's he talking about? He knows I never apologize.

"Look, Mycroft, that doesn't matter right now, there's a girl here–"  
"A girl? Really, Sherlock, I might just believe you if you weren't in the habit of lying to me." I punched in front of me.  
Too bad Mycroft wasn't standing there. "Punching the air won't in any way injure me, Sherlock– now tell me–" "Tell you?" I growl. "I'll tell you. There is a girl here, small,  
mousy, about 17 by the looks of it, and she needs medical attention."  
I can hear him grinning on the other end. "Really, Sherlock,  
this is very entertaining. I'm almost inclined to believe you."  
"MYCROFT!" I yell into the phone. It wakes up Molly, and her father, who doesn't look incredibly happy. Damn.


	3. Chapter 3

Molly's POV

I wake up to Sherlock standing over me and my father– why is my father on the ground, too? I notice the bruise forming on his cheek, and Sherlock looks a bit angry... Uh oh. I start crawling to the car, even though my head is killing me. My wrist could be better, too. "Stop right there," I hear my father hiss at me. I stop. I wince, mainly because I feel really bad for Sherlock, and also because my wrist seriously hurts now. Did I mention my wrist hurts?

"So, you take it upon yourself to discipline me for disciplining my daughter?"  
Sherlock scoffs, "Please. You had been drinking, and the blow you inflicted upon your daughter was pure abuse. There's no way around it."

My Dad growls, and I start edging towards the car again. "Molly!" He barks, and I stop again. "I'll deal with you in a minute," he says,  
pointing wobbly at Sherlock. He turns to me. Crap, crap. I don't want to be hit right now. My head already hurts, and my wrist hurts whenever I move my body. I know I need medical attention. "You stupid girl, who is this? He came over, and punched me! You–"  
and he raises his hand to strike a blow, which I cower from, but the blow never comes. Sherlock is standing in between my father and I.

"Hitting defenseless girls, how very pathetic of you. My name is Sherlock, which I could've told you already, if you had let me. It's hardly Molly's fault you're an impatient, cheating alcoholic." My fathers eyes grow wide. "How do you–" "Your phone." My Dad looks at me, then back at Sherlock. "My phone?" Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Yes,  
your phone. It's waterproof, but you don't work outside, judging by your complexion, which means you take the phone in the shower with you. You get a lot of texts that you don't want your daughter or wife to see." I look up at Sherlock. "But inside, you said–"  
"I know what I said, Molly Hooper. I was–" he chokes, and I spring up, ready to whack him on the back if need be, but he apparently was choking on the word. "I was... Wrong." He whispers. I roll _my_ eyes now. Just then, a car pulls up. A young man in a suit comes out, and handcuffs my father. "You are coming with me to the police station, Mr. Hooper. No, don't argue, you're coming." He turns to Sherlock, then notices me. Gives me the once over. "So– you weren't lying." Sherlock nods, very stiffly, and I get that he doesn't like the man very much.

"Mycroft, may I take the car to the hospital, p...lea...se..."  
He draws out the last word, why, I don't understand, until the elder pulls out a smug grin, and says sarcastically, "Why, of course, brother dear. We couldn't possibly let this lady go without medical attention. You have my full permission to use my car." "Good." Sherlock says, and turns to me. "Come on, let's go." We start walking towards the car Mycroft arrived in. "But your brother–" "He'll be fine, why worry about him? He's annoying anyways, so if he doesn't make it back home, I'm pretty sure I'll live." I grin, but then my wrist hurts. "Ouch!" I yelp. Sherlock glances down at me, tenderly, and rips some cloth from his t-shirt. He wraps it around my wrist, very tightly, and says, "That should hold it until we get to the hospital." We get in the car, and head towards the hospital.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlocks POV

_I'm considering putting my arm around Miss Hooper, but she would most likely take it as trying to make a move on her, which I most certainly am not. I just want her to be comfortable. Mycroft's man is driving, and would most likely rat to my elder brother, so no. I won't put my arm around Miss Hooper._

Molly's POV

_I really wish he'd put his arm around me. Maybe a little nudge in that direction wouldn't hurt..._

Sherlocks POV

_She just yawned. Am I boring her? No, she's leaning towards me. She's putting her head against my side! What do I do?_ I sit up straighter, and she falls off me, blushing. "Sorry, Sher- Mr. Holmes." "Sherlock. Mr Holmes is my nitwit of a brother." She laughs at this, even tho it wasn't that funny. Odd. "Okay, Sherlock. What hospital are we going to?" I stare at her for a moment, blankly. "Oh, we're not going to a hospital." **[yes I know I said hospital hush you technical people they're not going to a hospital it's my story and it'll be cuter this way so be quiet] **She sat up, all traces of tiredness left her. "What? Where are you taking me? Am I being kidnapped?" I stared at her for a moment again. "No, of course you're not. Your father would ask where you were, anyway, and he knows you got in a car with me. If I wanted to kidnap you, I wouldn't go about it this way."

For some reason, that didn't seem to comfort her.

"Well... If we're not going to a hospital, then where are we going?" I stared at her blankly again. "Don't do that." "Do what?" She looked irritated. "The look." "Look?" "You're doing that look again." "Well I can't see it, can I?" I looked in the car window. "It's my face?" "Yes, and it's doing a thing. You're doing a 'we both know what's really going on here' face." Now I was puzzled. "Well, we do!" "No, I don't. Which is why that look is irritating."

I sighed, apparently I would have to explain it to her.

"There's no need to go to a doctor, I can fix your wrist as good as new, don't want for you to pay a doctors bill. Now, is there anywhere you'd like to go?"

She looked out the window, and decided on the one place I had highly suspected: "The library."

**So someone asked for more chapters of this story. I figured I'd leave you with a cliffhanger, just to be nice. I'll write some more soon, probably in a few hours. Reviews _really_ motivate me, so if you'd like to see more even sooner, then that's how to do it. Okay, see you soon. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Molly's POV

We walked in the closest library, and I looked around in awe. I hadn't been in this one before, and it was beautiful. It was grand, and I loved it. I was just about to tell Sherlock when... Oh no. I scurried behind Sherlock, so of course he turned around, not understanding I was trying to hide.

"Molly, what are you doing?" I looked up at him. "I'm, um, well, I'm-" oh gosh he's starting to turn towards me... oh thank goodness. It's not him. I turned back to where I was. "It's nothing, Sherlock. I'm sorry, I was just-" "Molly!" He called, and popped up behind me. Damn. "Hi, Jim." I squeaked.

"Ex boyfriend." Sherlock stated. Jim turned towards Sherlock, as if just noticing him. "Oh. Excuse me, who is this Molly?" I gulped for air. "His name is Sherlock. I met him at the mall, and-" "And apparently you find it necessary to tell him all about our relationship?" Sherlock stood up straighter, and I whimpered. There was no way this could end well.

"Molly hasn't said a word about you. I could tell from the way she didn't want to see you, and the fact that you have been glaring at her for five minutes in that corner." He had been? No way this could end well.

Jim looked Sherlock over once again, with an almost greedy look on his face. "Well, well, well. Your new boyfriend certainly can read body language." Sherlock and I looked at each other a bit too quickly. "Boyfriend?" We both sputtered. "No, I think you've got it wrong-" "-he's not-" "-we're not-"

"I see. Molly, can I talk to you for a minute over here?" I whimpered again. "I'd rather not..."

Jim dragged me over to the corner, whereupon he immediately started furiously whisper yelling at me.

"What the hell was that text last night, Molly? You'd "talk to me later"? What was that supposed to mean?"

"It meant... um... It meant that we aren't dating anymore, and I don't have to answer to you!" I stood up, tall, despite my painful wrist, and had a thirty second staring contest. Which ended when he slapped me.

Sherlock's POV

I don't trust that man. He has almost an look about him, but he's smart, obviously. A genius. Curious and curiouser. I was looking at the sober and unhappy about it librarian when I heard a small whimper from Molly. She was standing behind me, but her face was bleeding. _As a Holmes, I have no reason feel any emotion towards this I told myself_. In spite of that, I moved to pick her up, but as she refused, I helped her good arm to the car, and covered the wound that now concealed half of her beautiful face. Wait what?

"You want to go home now, I assume?" She nodded, so I had her instruct the driver on where to go. There was a silence, that wasn't necessarily bad, but it wasn't pleasant, either. I finally turned to look at her, and when I did, she was crying. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, and a strange urge filled me, wanting to wipe them away and comfort her. I held back. Emotions were dangerous, and needed to be kept in check. Anyone who got in the way of that needed to leave. Which is what she would have to do. But... Would I miss her? I had never missed anyone Mycroft had gotten rid of before. This girl was something new.

Molly's POV

He had seen me crying, of that I was sure, but he didn't seem uncomfortable with it, like most men would be. Instead, he seems distant, and discomforted with me. As a person. The tears don't seem to have anything to do with it.

We pulled up to my house, a pitiful one story trailer house. "Thanks, Sherlock." He still seemed distracted, and waved me off. "Okay, well, bye." He still didn't move. I reached out and touched his hand. He looked up, startled at my touch. "Really, Sherlock. Thank you so much for everything." His eyes had gone glassy halfway through those words. He offered a semi-smile, and distantly responded "You're welcome."

I started back up the driveway, and almost reached the door before I heard a gunfire from my house. I tried to run back to the car, which had already started to drive away.

With my wrist and head hurting, I didn't make it far. And when I heard my dad coming out, I just collapsed on the middle of the road. I was ready to give up. Suddenly, I decided right then I wouldn't let this happen to me. I found a way to circle around my incredibly drunk father. "Mol- mall- nal-" and then he collapsed on the grass. I ran to my room and grabbed clothes and other necessities and threw them in a bag. I was starting to leave the house when I turned and found my mother, with a bullet wound in her head. Before I had time to examine it, Sherlock suddenly burst in. "Molly? Are you okay? I heard a gunshot and was worried about you."

I gestured to my mothers still warm body. "No! My mom- is- my mom- ah-" Suddenly it dawned on me what this meant, and my body threw itself forward, into Sherlock. "Hello?" But before he could say anything more, my body decided to release all bile from my stomach right onto Sherlock.


End file.
